Bitter Frost
by BookRose
Summary: Maurice's experiences, and point of view as he determinedly searches for his daughter and seeks to rescue her from the castle and the menacing monster that holds her prisoner inside.
1. Entry One

Bitter Frost

_A/N:Hello everyone. This is a take on what it might have been like for Maurice during that winter as he searched for the castle to rescue Belle. It's a journal he took with him in order to record what happened to him past and present so that if anyone would find him they might continue to search for his imprisoned daughter and hopefully try to save her from her "dark fate." Well anyways I will stop babbling and let you read it. Hopefully you will find this story at least interesting if not entertaining. At some points at least. Oh and one more thing: I'm going to record the dates in the journal, at least at first so please remember that this is a parallel universe and don't remind me that King So and So was monarch at that time because I know. Remember that Disney knew too when they set Beauty and the Beast in the time period they did. So no flames on the year dates! That is all._

Disclaimer: Beauty and the Beast is not mine. Maybe I can buy it from Disney one day and breathe some life back into it.

November 30, 1615

The Dark Forest

To Whom It May Concern:

My name is Maurice LeRoeux. I am from a small village in Midwestern France called Molyneaux. Though my origins truly lie in Paris, that is not why I write in this journal and record these events. My daughter Belle was kidnapped and taken prisoner in an old long unused castle (or so I thought) earlier this evening, by none other than the most frightening, monstrous, dangerous, and merciless Beast ever known to man.

I expect you want to know how it all started, how she became imprisoned and how I have come to make this perilous journey alone. It all started three days ago when I had finally managed to invent something that not only would be useful and benefit mankind but also something that worked upon completion. For that is my trade. I am an inventor. I used to be a merchant in Paris and sell many a variety of useful goods while only inventing in my spare time. I lived with my wife Lydia and our little girl Belle in a very well to do lifestyle where I could give them the comforts and entities they deserved. But alas, when my little Belle was only 12 years of age her dear mother and my precious wife took ill with diphtheria. We both helplessly watched as the evil virus took her life bit by bit over the course of 4 years. I will say this about that terrible situation. It never took Lydia's emotional strength or her spirit from us. No matter how weak she got from the terrible affliction, she never let our daughter see her listless from fatigue or in pain. She always kept her sweet disposition and fiery spirit. In fact Belle has inherited that same spirit and to this day is intimidated by very few people. She is also the kind and loving soul her mother was. My wife kept her mind and spirit until the sickness escaped with her life, leaving her body an empty shell of what had once been the greatest beauty and most compassionate soul. Over the course of two years my business began to fail and deteriorate until the most vicious blow broke it forever.

The news came quickly enough. Pirates had plundered and burned most of the ships, and the few that would have made it to France to keep my trade alive a little longer, met with terrible monsoons that were common that time of year. None of my ships survived. And then eventually there was no money left. My daughter and I were suddenly penniless. My lawyer left us only one option: Travel to another place, one that would be cheap and uncomplicated and rebuild a new life there. The unspoken option was clear and chilling. Live in poverty on the Parisian streets begging and groveling for money, begging the mercy of an uncaring city, subjecting ourselves to the filthy underbelly that would harden and jade my daughter into the likeness of a scarlet woman. I knew I could never let that happen. Belle's innocence and safety were more important to me that anything else I possessed and I knew that life on the streets was no place for the child that meant more to me than life. So I did the only thing that was right. I protected my daughter and moved to Molyneaux. I know she didn't like the idea of leaving home, even though she said hardly a word about it.

Oh dear! It appears I've completely gotten off subject. Well since my invention worked the way it should, I set off for The Fair on my faithful horse Philippe, with high hopes and expectations. I had no idea of the horrors that awaited me later that night. The journey started off fairly pleasantly. I rode for a few hours in the direction of the Province Fair. But soon, it started almost imperceptibly to get darker and spookier as I rode on into the forest. I started to become slightly uneasy, but kept it at bay by looking to see if I had made many wrong turns. My horse Philippe grew steadily more and more skittish and nervous. I know now he was trying to tell me that we were obviously in danger. I should have listened. However I rode us both deeper into the forest, it growing more foreboding and eerie each second. Suddenly, a rustle in some nearby bushes startled my horse. I managed to keep a small amount of control over my horse until we backed up into a tree full of sleeping bats. As we jolted into the back of the old tree, we must have woken a colony of hundreds it seemed, for they all flew down upon us, swarming and furious as an agitated swarm of bees. That's when Philippe finally had it. He was so spooked and frightened that he ran helter-skelter. Thankfully he came back to his senses a hair's width from falling from a high cliff. I managed to back him up and almost regained control of him before the howl of the wolf sounded in the night and fully frightened my horse. Completely panicking, my horse threw me and took off faster than I'd ever seen him run his life. Before I knew it, I had been left alone with silence…and ominous foreboding.

"Philippe?" I whispered softly, tentatively.

Suddenly I heard a savage growl behind me. I turned and was met from afar with another growl and three sets of terrifying yellow eyes. I knew I was doomed if I didn't make a run for it. Quickly I ran, pushing myself to my limits, terror giving me motivation and strength to my legs. I felt I would go crazy with fear it was so horrible. While spurring me on, it was choking me, filling my heart with an unwanted toxic that grew and grew. Thankfully I found shelter quickly. Looking fast for a safe haven I ran quickly to the gate, desperately pleading with it to open up and give me refuge from the wolves.

"Help! Help! Is someone there?" I kept calling.

Just as the wolves were within a 2-foot radius of me, it suddenly opened and I was thrust in and thrown to the ground by a gatekeeper I could not see. As the wolves drew rapidly closer, I managed to get the gate closed and started to crawl away. But for one brief horrifying moment a wolf had managed to grab my foot and tried to drag me back. By sheer determination I jerked free and scurried away. I was terribly shaken and very aware that I had escaped by the skin of my teeth. Then for the first time I got a good long look at my "shelter."

It was a magnificent, gigantic form of architecture that loomed over the land and swallowed up the sky. Suddenly, it began to rain. Torrents and torrents of rain gushed down from above, drenching me in seconds. I rushed to the castle and knocked for admittance. The door opened almost immediately, although once again the doorkeeper seemed invisible. That's impossible though isn't it?

Anyway I tentatively stepped inside and called out softly. I knew I had to make my presence known so that if caught, I could remain blameless of just slipping in. I explained myself as I searched for at least one living soul in the castle and found something unimaginable. It was so ridiculous and so preposterous that I believe it would have all been a dream if not for the events that followed. I looked for the voices that beckoned me and found that one of them came from the very candelabra that I held in my hand!

I dropped him in surprise. Who had invented such…a marvelous, _lifelike_ contraption? Thinking back now I realize it probably wasn't the politest thing I'd ever done and hope I haven't offended him. The candelabra had its own personality! As did the tabletop clock that came over and reprimanded him for who knows what. Strange as they were, they took me in, clothed me, fed me, warmed me, and dried me off. I had never been in such a hospitable environment as this. Certainly never in Molyneaux, even when we first came. I was met by many other strange objects that otherwise would have been inanimate. A coat rack that wrapped a blanket around me. A footrest that acted like a rambunctious puppy. A kindly teapot that acted as a hostess offered me tea. Her little teacup son, who was as active and playful as any living, breathing child. I won't forget him anytime soon. He said the darndest things.

As I sat by the fire, comfortable and safe, I was instantly jerked out of my protective shroud the objects offered me. And I almost dropped the little boy teacup in the process. A loud bang sounded, followed by a swift rush of wind that rapidly suffocated the fire. Everything that had been light and warmth suddenly became darkness and threatening peril. I sat utterly paralyzed in the chair, save for uncontrollable trembling and whimpering, my greatest fear not knowing what next to expect. Suddenly a low, ominous growl pierced the silence, and my fear grew larger than all the seven oceans. Then the most petrifying voice stilled my heart.

"There's a stranger in here." Came the menacing bestial growl.

The suave candelabra tried to say something in my defense, but was cut off by an earsplitting roar. The clock too tried to offer an explanation but the animalistic bellow that followed was worse than the last one. I could hardly stand it any more. I slowly turned to the right-and to the left. What I saw gave me the most shocking and frightening experience of my life. What I saw will never again compare to any frightening creature man's imagination may produce. The wolves that had chased me here were now like helpless little puppies, and the fear they had evoked in me seemed so meaningless as I looked at the thing that seemed very capable of killing me brutally and savagely. It was a massive animal, with a fearsome face that defied imagination in hideousness and horror. It was as if I was meeting the spawn of Hell. In fact, as Cerberus was Hades' pet, this atrocity was most assuredly Satan's pet put on earth to consume any poor soul that was unfortunate enough to cross its path. I was struck dumb with overwhelming fear and didn't speak again until that creature, that monstrosity, that _beast_ demanded this from me:

"Who are you? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?"

I did my best under the circumstances to answer.

"I was lost in the woods-"

"You're not WELCOME HERE!" It snarled brutally.

"I'm sorry-" I meekly tried to apologize.

"What are you staring AT?" it menaced threateningly.

"Nothing-" I pleaded.

"So," it sneered. "You've come to STARE AT THE BEAST have you?"

"Please!" I begged. "I meant no harm. I just needed a place to stay."

"Oh, don't worry," it mocked in its demonic voice. "I'll give you a place to stay."

"No please!" I pleaded. "No, NO!"

My hands are shaking terribly. The have been for the past ten minutes. I'm so very frightened. _(Another 10 minutes pass.)_ I'm afraid I cannot write I anymore of this horrific story. I had taken an emotional beating when I met The Beast, and now I have taken one again by reliving the experience. But for the sake of my daughter, I will write more tomorrow. 'Til then, adieu.


	2. Entry Two

Disclaimer: I do this all without permission.

December 1, 1615

Afternoon

I made good progress today. And now that I have had both breakfast and dinner, found sufficient shelter, and a good spot to relate my story I shall gather my courage and finish recording the most horrifying, the most terrifying and most heartbreaking ordeal in my life since the loss of my wife.

The Beast practically flew up to the highest tower dragging me from staircase to staircase, muttering and snarling as he went. I

begged and pleaded with him to let me free. He roared into my

face. I couldn't make a sound after that. We made it to the top of

the tower to my prison where he then threw me roughly to the ground inside the cell.

"This is your new home now." He paused and then let out a feral roar. "Get used to it!"

How long I was in that cell I'll never know. I just know that there could never have been a longer time in my life. I had never been so uncomfortable either. When I wasn't trying to find a comfortable spot on the merciless icy stone floor, I was trying to curl up in the damp rotten hay that only made everything worse since I never did get a chance to properly dry myself.

To get my mind off the current irritations, I turned my thoughts to my daughter. My sweet, beautiful, little girl would be left by herself and I couldn't do a thing about it. I knew she was a strong, capable woman but I also knew that it would devastate her that I did not eventually come back, and she would be left as an orphan. And the worst part of it was not _knowing_ what happened to me. When I did not come back from my trip she would surely worry, and then as the weeks, months, and years passed the uncertainty would eat at her daily and make her suffer so horribly. The thought was almost too much for me to bear. I couldn't stand it that my daughter was about to be hurt, and so unimaginably. She never deserved anything like this. I went through a series of emotions that eventually left me exhausted. First I was very frightened. And rightfully so, I may add. Then I became angry as I thought of my daughter left all alone, with no family left. All I could hope for was that she would find a good husband who would love and protect her and take the best care of her that was possible. And so I then became exhausted and resigned. I fell asleep remembering my wife and our life before all this turmoil entered our lives. I don't know how long I slept but I woke up surprised where I was and then remembered I was supposed to be in this damp, dark place for the rest of my life. More time passed before I heard a familiar voice. At first I thought I was hearing my wife's musical, heaven-made voice and thought I was dying. In all the years she had been gone, I had never forgotten her voice. But I soon realized that I was still very much alive. It turned out to be the voice of the very young woman I had been thinking about.

"That's funny…I'm sure there was someone." Then more clearly. "Is anyone here?"

Amazement filled my heart and soul as I answered her.

"Belle?"

"Papa!" she cried, rushing toward my cell.

I was suddenly overwhelmed with joy to see her and a great amount of pride in my daughter. It was hard to explain, but I knew I had never been more relieved or happier in my life! I could hardly believe what my eyes were telling me, that my daughter had suddenly appeared in front of my cell. It was truly a miracle. I crawled quickly to the door and gripped the bars.

"How did you find me?" I asked excitedly.

She did not answer but instead grasped my hands. In her hands, there was the warmth that this dungeon lacked.

"Oh your hands are like ice! We have to get you out of there," she stated firmly.

And then I knew what I had to do. I was so happy to see my daughter, and nothing would have pleased me more than for us to devise a way to release me from my dark, damp prison so that Belle and I could ride back to the village as fast as we could and never look back. But I also knew deep down in my heart that there was no time for anything of the sort. I had to persuade my daughter to leave me here and go back to the village to live out the rest of her life happily. If that demonic creature found her here there was no telling what he would do to her, and I had to do my best to make sure he did not hurt my little girl. I felt an overwhelming sadness that my daughter would have to go so soon after our reunion, but I forced those feelings far into the back of my heart and concentrated on the task at hand. I could mourn later; right now, my daughter needed to get out of this cursed place as fast as humanly possible. Now she knew where I was. That at least would give her some measure of peace.

"Belle, I want you to leave this place," I told her urgently.

"Who's done this to you?" she argued, looking a little angry now.

"No time to explain!" I said, desperate for her to be gone before the monster showed up. "You must go. Now!"

"I won't leave you!" she exclaimed adamantly.

And then the worst thing happened. She was discovered.

"What are you doing here?" came the savage growl.

I know he grabbed her shoulder to fling her around to see her, but in trying to do so, he did it too roughly, and before either of them could see each other, the torch that Belle had been carrying had been doused in a nearby puddle.

Thoroughly frightened that my daughter was about to be brutally and savagely massacred, I screamed for her to run!

"Who's there? Who are you?" Belle called out, sounding shaken.

"The Master of this castle."

"I've come for my father," she said bravely. "Please let him out. Can't you see, he's sick?" she pleaded.

"Then he shouldn't have trespassed here!" the monster lashed out at her. That evil creature had _actually _dared to shout at my daughter!

"But he could die! Please, I'll do anything!" I was astounded. And frankly quite worried. My daughter never _ever_ begged, except a few times during the course of her mother's illness, I had overheard her praying alone in her room, fiercely asking our Lord for a miracle, a cure so that Lydia could recover and we could be a family again. I prayed also, but it was Belle who prayed ceaselessly and unendingly. And yet when she left us, Belle's faith did not diminish. "God works in mysterious ways, Papa," she had told me quietly after I had angrily asked why my wife had been snatched from us like that. "He has a plan for us. We just have to trust Him, and know that everything will turn out fine in the end. As long as we trust in Him, and support each other, He will be our strength and we will overcome anything. Mama is in heaven; she won't hurt anymore. Our Lord has a reason for everything, and a plan for us."

Now as the Beast glared icily at Belle, she stood her ground, as strong and unwavering now as she was then.

"There's nothing you can do," the beast replied coldly. "He's my prisoner."

"Oh there must be something I can…wait!" she cried.

The monster, about to leave, turned back as if he'd been expecting her to ask.

She leaned forward, looking more vulnerable and forlorn than I'd ever seen her.

"Take me instead." Oh no. Oh no!

"You!" the beast said scornfully. Then he appeared more thoughtful. "You would…take his place?"

"Belle no! You don't know what you're doing!" I cried out, my panic increasing every second.

Seeming to ignore me she pressed on. "If I did…would you let him go?"

"Yes," the Beast whispered. "But you must promise to stay here forever."

Belle suddenly looked a little uncertain.

"Come into the light."

And so he did. Slowly at first, but soon every last demonic feature, every last bit of this hulking hideous form was there for all to plainly see.

Belle gasped and recoiled, making a small effort to hide her shock and fear.

Slightly angry and more than frightened for her I shouted with all the authority and might I could muster.

"NO Belle! I won't let you do this!"

She again ignored me and bravely, steadfastly gave her freedom for mine. As much as I was frustrated and anxious for her, I was not disappointed. She was showing the same strength of character and self-sacrificing attitude as her mother might have done in her position. Thinking back on it I was never more proud of her than at that moment, when the spirit of her mother shined through most. If only I'd had more time to persuade her!

"You have my word," she said submissively.

"Done!" came the harsh reply.

As my cell door clinked open, I rushed toward my daughter who had fallen to her knees. I had to let her know, to _try_ at least, that it was not too late to turn away from this decision.

"Belle," I said urgently. "Belle listen to me. I'm old, I've lived my life-"

Suddenly I felt myself being pulled away from the only one I had left to care about. I was dragged away hearing both my own cries for her and her cries to wait, to have more time. I was then treated to even less kindness this time than before. I felt my body being jarred by every step he made down the cold stone steps of each floor. And there are many floors in that bewitched fortress. I begged, pleaded, implored him at every turn to have mercy on my daughter, spare her life and let her free. My attempts grew weaker and weaker until, when we reached the outdoors of the bleak, hopeless mausoleum, he finally snapped back at me.

"She's no longer your concern! Take him to the village," he snarled.

I suddenly was hurled into a strange carriage-like contraption. I shouted to be let out but to no avail. It too ignored my pleadings and eventually hysterics. Before I knew it, I was ejected out of the carriage and into fresh, still-falling snow. I shook myself thoroughly and chanced to look up. I was very thankful and completely relieved to find myself in the familiar surroundings of Molyneaux. The simple, homey village houses comforted me and filled me with hope, hope that I could successfully get my daughter back. I scanned my surroundings quickly before seeing the tavern. Of course! Not only was that the place where there were the most people this time of day, but the one man who could successfully save my daughter was in there as well. I broke into a run, hope and fear for my daughter invigorating me.

Oh dear. The sun seems to have set long ago. I need to put this away and get my rest. I'll need my strength for tomorrow as I continue to search for that cursed castle. And my daughter. I shall now go to sleep. My shelter tonight is a small abandoned cottage deep in the woods. It's a fairly good one, with a working stove, a decent bed and stores of food to replenish my supply. Til tomorrow, adieu.

A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed!

**TrudiRose: **Thanks so much. It's weird because back-stories come to me like bees to honey. And as for the huge block, that had been an impulsive update. But no more! Thanks for reviewing!

**LumBabsFan:** Well I am glad to give him this time and he must be glad that this little inkling became a full-fledged journal. And thanks for reviewing!

**Shortstef: **I'm always happy to spoil my readers and reviewers with presents LOL. And actually if the stuff I wanted to be scary turned out a bit like Frankenstein, then that's great! I read the book and I truly liked it a lot, so if my story matches the horror elements of Frankenstein, the terrific! Thanks for reviewing!


	3. Entry Three

Disclaimer: Beauty and the Beast isn't mine. If only it were.

**December 2, 1615**

** Deeper in the Dark Forest Morning**

I woke up very refreshed today. I found the cottage to not only be warm and comfortable but also well stocked almost to the brim with food, drink, candles, and a few extra blankets. I also decided I would need something to light the firewood faster. I had already been working on it along with the woodchopper, as an alternate much simpler plan if the woodchopper did not work. Needless to say I need that invention now. It is simple yet durable and long lasting provided you have many of them. I like to call them matches. It's a long stick sanded at the top in order to create fire. The objective is to strike the sanded part against a rock, lighting the top in order to create fire. After obtaining everything, I set out invigorated and am now taking the time finish recording the very recent history.

I ran swiftly to the tavern hoping desperately to find help. At the time all I could think about was getting a couple of good men down at the castle in order to free my daughter and vanquish the monster. I had positively _known _that if any man could do it, it would be Gaston. First of all if you don't know about Gaston, then you've either never been to Midwestern France as a whole or you never left your house and have thus far spent it completely cut away from real life. Gaston is basically the hero of all the lands he has been to but especially in Molyneaux. He is giant of a man with the strength of Hercules and a face that usually charms young ladies so completely, that he is the ideal husband to all except my daughter. This has always confused me, especially considering that not only is he appealing to a young lady's eye, but that he is also the richest man in town and would provide the best for her for the rest of her life. Whenever I talked with her about it, she said that she doesn't love him, and that she thinks he's arrogant and conceited, and that he has no manners. I trust my daughter implicitly, but I must confess that I never understood what she had against the man. He had always seemed like a good-natured fellow to me, and given his enormous popularity, and impressive reputation as a renowned hero, I could not see why she objected to him so. I was however soon to learn my error.

I seem to have gotten off track again. I entered the tavern and did not waste any time.

"Help!" I cried. "Someone help me!"

"Maurice?" said a voice from some part of the tavern.

"Please! Please I need your help," I said to everyone in particular. The more able bodied volunteers who knew about this in order to storm the castle and rescue my little girl, the better.

"He's got her! He's got her locked up in a dungeon!" I said, hysteria taking over enough that I actually shook one of the patrons.

"Who?" came another voice.

"Belle!" I said almost starting to feel an unreasonable frustration that I grabbed the questioner's shirt even though I had just then mentioned her name. "We must go! Not a minute to lose!" I cried shaking someone else.

"Whoa, slow down Maurice," Gaston said imperiously.

"Who's got Belle locked in a dungeon?"

"A Beast!" I cried, half-relieved half desperate now. "A horrible monstrous Beast!" I glanced quickly around to see the reactions. I don't really know what I expected. Fear? Surprise? Immediate righteous anger that would motivate them to rush to the castle, conquer it and save Belle?

Well they were certainly surprised.

Everyone was frozen for a split second, dumbstruck, before bursting into uproarious laughter.

I faltered, feeling my hopes start to sink.

"Is it a big Beast?" came the gruff voice of Claude, one of the regulars, behind me.

"Huge!" I said empathetically, hoping against hope that he might believe me.

"With a long ugly snout?" asked François, emphasizing the "snout" with an empty mug that magnified his mouth.

"Hideously ugly." I said uncertainly. Would they help me or not?

"And sharp cruel fangs?" came the shrill voice of Frédéric, an older patron and widow who during the day ran a small merchandise store near the baker.

It was becoming a confusing mess very quickly, with everyone pushing me around and asking questions all at once and not very kindly either it seemed.

"Yes, YES!" I shouted _very _frustrated and frazzled at this point. I was beginning to believe I might not get the help I needed after all. "Will you help me?" As I said this I was pushed to the floor in front of Gaston's chair.

"All right, old man," Gaston said graciously. "We'll help you out."

"You will? Oh thank you, thank you thank you!"

But as I was saying all this tow of the men, François and Claude each grasp an arm of mine and seemed to be leading me to the door with good intentions. This was not true, much to my chagrin.

I landed in a huge mound of snow. For a moment, I couldn't believe what had happened. I was in shock. Terrible, terrible shock. But gradually, the awful truth dawned on me, and I felt sick. I began hyperventilating. No one was going to help me. They thought I was crazy. Belle had been right about the town and its villagers. I had always thought they were friendly, good people. But it was all a ingenuous act. The truth was that Belle and I were outcasts here, and always had been. They thought we were strange and mocked us behind our backs. I had always believed the best of people, but Belle was not as naive as I. She had known the truth.

And now I did too.

I was alone. My dear Belle was trapped, a prisoner, at the mercy of a ferocious monster. And the only person she had to help her was me...a weak, feeble old man.

I became weary and suddenly very tired. I began to fall into despair and hopelessness. Out of pure anguish I cried out.

"Will no one help me?" I cried bleakly knowing already that there would be no one.

I despondently trudged home. Once there I basically didn't do…anything. I changed into drier clothes and started a fire. Then I just sat in my chair and stared at whatever was in front of me. At first I didn't think. But when I did, I thought more and more about the current situation and realized I wasn't doing Belle any good just sitting here, moping. So I was not getting any help from the villagers. So what? They would probably be more of a hindrance than help anyway and would most likely botch everything up. I realized help or no help, Belle was probably wasting away in the very same cell I had been jailed in and the picture made me shudder and clutch at my heart. I cursed myself for my selfishness from wasting so much time to changing my clothes and making the fire. Here I was warm and comfortable, and moping while she was probably frozen from the frigid temperature in the cell and had probably contracted some terrible illness. Oh dear God but I had to get to her fast. I quickly went to gather food, clothes, paper, this journal, and other supplies. I made a vow then and there that I would find that castle and somehow get her out of there. I would just have to do it alone. And I will not rest until I do. And so I traveled deep into the forest and began recording this story in this journal. Although in truth I would have loved nothing more than to have taken a key and locked those memories deep into the recesses of my mind. For the sake of my daughter I did not. Perhaps when I can finally rescue her and we can return to our peaceful lives. Then I will truly have peace. But for now I must be strong and focus on the important thing: saving Belle. Til tomorrow, adieu.

Well there you go! Hope everyone liked and enjoyed this chapter. BTW today is my birthday! I'm 19 today so that should be fun. Anyway thanks to all who reviewed!

**TrudiRose: **Yes it was very hard on Maurice all of it but now he is determined to see this through and put his daughter first. Thank you so much for reviewing!

**shortstef: **Thanks!

**Bellamegs: **actuallyTrudi had said that it would be fine because it was all from his perspective. Doing it word for word could only enhance all his emotions and thoughts. Besides he's telling this the way he remembers it. Thanks for reviewing!

**LadyAlyafaelyn: **Merci Beaucoup!

**LumBabsFan: **As a matter of fact, I would watch the movie itself and write the scenes cause I still have the movie on VHS. But it's still fun no? Thanks for reviewing!


	4. Entry Four

Disclaimer: I do not own Beauty and the Beast. And I certainly don't own Maurice. (Sad sigh.) Oh well, it's not like he's Vincent! Not that anyone has a high opinion him right now. Well wait…he did save Belle's life just now didn't he? Okay. Never mind then. :)

December 4, 1615

**The Heart of the Dark Forest**

**Afternoon**

Made good progress today. Although it has been uncharacteristically dark, and has reminded me a little bit of the night I found that cursed castle, I have complete faith that I will find my daughter in no time at all.

Although…the exact direction of the castle escapes me at the moment. If only I had something to help me know the way…like that new-fangled little knick-knack the British call a "compass." Maybe I'll be able to find one after Belle and I can get back to the village. Or rather I should say after we've made the arrangements and settled in another town-a town that would care if one of the residents needed rescuing and wouldn't turn away the one who asked for it.

Maybe we won't even go to another town. After all I am really willing to take the chance that we may be quiet outcasts again, that people will be courteous to us as it suits them, but as soon as we need a helping hand in any way, shape or form, they will refuse? I wish now that I had paid closer attention when Belle had seemed less than satisfied with Molyneaux. The truth is, I did not ignored what she said. I heard her with an open ear, quite frankly. But that is all I ever did. I heard her but never truly _listened_. I reasoned to myself that all she needed was time, and then eventually she would make friends and a good life within that little town.

Apparently I had overestimated the town. Well, no more! We may not be able to move back to Paris, but we will not go to another tiny out-of-the-way village either. Maybe next time we will make our home in Clermont-Ferrand, Rouen, Lyon, St. Etienne, or maybe even Orléans. That would sure make Belle happy, to be so close to her old home

**Early Evening**

At least I believe it is. But whether or not I am correct in my assumptions is not something I care much about right now. I feel so frightened. So cold. So…_lonely._ Oh, how I miss my little girl! My Belle! If she were here, I know things would not look as terrible as they do right now. I'm willing to say that if anyone else were with me, even the notorious Gaston, (notorious for being indifferent to a young girl's plight that is) things would not frighten me so easily, I would have been able to go further, and I would have been surer of the way to the castle.

Maybe if Philippe were here, we'd already be at the castle, considering horses go a great deal faster than men, even at a leisurely pace. No, actually I am actually rather glad Philippe is not here. He would have been even more spooked than I am. He would have bolted at the sight of the ghost I thought I saw earlier today. Against my better judgment, I looked closer and found to my great relief, not a ghost, but simply a hollow tree with two fireflies right next to each other, making the perfect façade of a ghost. And I know he would have driven even deeper into the forest had he heard the strange voices that seemed to be calling…my name. I still shudder at the memory, but again, on closer inspection, the voices were actually the croaking of frogs and as for them forming my name, my imagination had simply run away with me.

The howling of the wolves…that, however, I cannot banish. I have good reason to fear the wolves. They have recently started howling, and even though it started out faint, it has grown closer and closer and I wonder how safe I am in this little cave. What the…

_Oh no._

I am not the only one taking shelter in this little cave. I have awoken something very angry…and it seems very hungry. Its breath is putrid and steaming…it's eyes yellow and menacing. I shall have to write even slower than I do now. Slowly close my journal. Slowly inch closer to the opening. And then…

**RUN!!!**

A/N: **BOO! **Happy Halloween:)


	5. Entry Five

Disclaimer: No I do not own Beauty and the Beast. It would be a nice Christmas present, but I know, dream on right?

**December 10, 1615**

**Mid-Morning**

Ever so conscientiously I have made sure to count the days between the last entry in this diary and now this one. It hasn't been easy. I could not afford to stop after I fled the cave. Since then I have hardly stopped for rest and food. Thinking about it now, whether it was a harmless animal or some dangerous threat, I don't care. Living in the wilderness, even for as short a time as I'm doing, is enough to drive any man to his knees in fear and misery. But I will gladly bear all burdens and fears for the sake of my daughter. If I am a miserable old coot, cold and hungry in the wilderness, I can hardly imagine the terrible mistreatments that depraved monster is putting her through. Living day and night non-stop on a cold stone floor at his mercy for even food and water…is he giving her any food and water? Please Lord, let it be so! Oh please let it be so. At least let us have that much of a favor so that we may escape alive.

No more writing today. I must press on, and think of a way to stretch my rations.

**December 16, 1615**

**Late Evening**

A six day interval again. Goodness gracious but I'm tired. These old bones creak and groan with each step and it's impossible to go as fast as I used to as a lad. This would be much easier if I were much younger. I remember when I was. Nothing could stop me, a reckless young teenager who would hang from the rigging and hop from sail to sail at ages 12 to15. Gradually as I grew older, common sense grew with me and I developed into someone more plain and even soft spoken.

In my family, we were traders and seafarers. At first it was just me and my father. My mother had died when I was young and all my other brothers had not been interested in Father's business and had found their fortunes elsewhere. Together, my father and I, we had made such a team! Our mercantile had become so famous that our routes made port from France all the way around Africa, to China and back. One of our best customers was a Greek businessman, Orestes Rosakis. At one point he asked to meet with father privately aboard one of our ships. We sailed to Greece and planned to stay there for the summer, not only for Rosakis, but also for more business opportunities. It was at that time that I had met the breathtaking Lydia, who would hold my heart from then to the end of time. At first glance, she appeared quiet and demure, and there was certainly no denying her matchless grace and class. But there was a hidden fire in those green eyes if you looked close enough and there was no stopping her when she set her mind to anything. Her kindness and determination made her an attractive woman to me, it seemed, the moment I first saw her walk into her father's parlor carrying the tea set. She was Rosakis's eldest daughter out of three and could have had her pick of any man. And yet she chose me, an ordinary man who was the son of a merchant. Her capacity for love surprised me and touched me so, that I knew I would never ever meet another woman like her in my life...except for my daughter, who has the very spirit of her mother.

Yet when I asked permission from her father to court her, he flatly refused, and said that if I ever came near her again, he would completely terminate all the business between him and Father. Dejected, I could only wonder how I would be able to wake up and face tomorrow, knowing I would not be able to see her. Would I be able to face the day? Yes, grudgingly. I would have been able to move on and live the rest of my life. But it would have been empty and meaningless, devoid of that which makes life worthwhile: true love that would create the fulfilling joy of a family that would grow with each passing year into something more beautiful, more of a reward than all the gold in the world.

That night I could not sleep. My thoughts were consumed with the fair-skinned, classically dark-haired beauty with a smile that shone brighter than the stars. Wearily, I roamed the Grecian streets, wishing I could be somewhere else. As it turned out, that night she also was unable to sleep and before long, we found each other. In tears, she told me that she didn't feel the same way her father did. When I asked her how she felt, she told me that she felt that her father was wrong to turn away a man with integrity and honesty simply because his pockets were not lined with the denarii's of a Greek or because he simply was not wealthy enough. Her father was an old man who wanted the best for his daughter but didn't realize that she had already found better than the best, in every way. She asked me to please forgive him for not being able to see that a wealthy family does not guarantee happiness.

From then on, we saw each other secretly, but rarely. Our best times were at night, walking around the port holding hands and talking of the future. I asked if she would be happy to live in a simpler house instead of the luxurious villa she had grown up in. She told me that nothing mattered, not even where we lived, as long as we had each other. By the end of the summer, I knew I wanted to make her my wife.

Our flight was in secret, but our escape was narrow. Apparently, Rosakis had been informed of our plans, and he nearly succeeded in recapturing his daughter. He chased us halfway to our destination and we barely made the ship that was minutes away from setting sail. To this day, or escape is still a mystery and a miracle to me. We were weak with relief, but nevertheless jubilant, knowing we now had the freedom to be together openly and love each other openly. That night was the beginning of the rest of our lives together.

We were quickly and quietly married in a small ceremony with my father as our only witness. I am thankful even now for how quickly he was able to forgive me. He had no reason to support us as Lydia and I had probably cost him one of the most important deals in the business. After a few irate letters from him (and few letters from me begging forgiveness) I got a letter from him that said he had thought a good deal about it, and that Lydia and I reminded him slightly of what he and mother had to go through before their in-laws accepted them. After the marriage and the birth of our baby, he came by often and doted on Belle. It was a terribly sad day when we buried him.

Being newlyweds, money did not pour in, but neither was it scarce. We were able to afford a modest little house in an obscure part of Paris for a little while. I still was an apprentice and was able to bring home a modest wage for the both of us. There are so many special times I remember; especially the first times we experienced something together. After a few years, I had received an offer in a merchants guild, and none too soon, for on the day I was about to tell Lydia about it, she met me at the door, kissed me, and told me that we were about to have a child.

When our daughter was born, it was truly the happiest day of my life, even surpassing the day Lydia and I were joined as man and wife. The tiny, precious little babe was perfect and healthy in every way, and more lovely and charming than any other baby I'd seen, innocent and curious about the world around her. She was a healthy baby and grew all too quickly for the both of us. It always seems there is never truly enough time to enjoy and savor each stage a baby grows through. It seemed like she had just learned to lift up her head, but when we turned around, she had learned to sit up, then crawl, then walk then run. She was the delight of her mother and me, our whole world.

At a very young age, she amazed me with the depth of her knowledge and questions concerning what she didn't know, her inquisitiveness going beyond that of children her own age. Seeing how her young mind hungered and thirsted after the fountain of knowledge, Lydia made up her mind that Belle would only get the best education possible. But that was easier said than done. Each tutor we hired seemed less and less interested in teaching her, their general consensus being, "She will grow up to be a woman; what could she possibly do with an education?"

Finally, after throwing out the sixth or seventh tutor with that attitude, Lydia threw up her hands and concluded that the only way Belle would get her education would be if she gave it to her.

"After all, we're the only one's who believe it isn't a waste," she concluded irritably.

And so it officially began. After all, Lydia had already been reading to her since she she'd been in her crib. Educating her just meant adding other subjects and topics for them to cover aside from their favorite plots or characters. Subjects like arithmetic, (not a favorite of hers) Latin, history, science, and of course, literature. Belle took all this in like a sponge. Were she a boy, she would have made all her professors proud.

Our life was happy and full of joy once. Someday, I hope for it to be again.


	6. Entry Six

**December 24, 1615**

**Christmas Eve**

I hope that I reach the castle tomorrow. What a wonderful Christmas present it would be if I rescued her in time for Christmas and we both got home safe and sound. If that is not a Christmas miracle, I don't know what is. I need to find her very shortly anyway, because I am getting short on rations. My Christmas dinner included the next to the last of the rations, which were some nuts, cranberries Belle had preserved before all this mess, fruit preserves, and surprisingly enough, a half-eaten bird that after some cooking, seemed acceptable to eat. I remember past Christmases when the Christmas Eve supper was a bountiful meal, with a beautiful variety of things Lydia would make, such as fresh baked baguettes, a recipe she had acquired from a neighbor called "heirloom sugar cookies," and recipe from her own family she called kourabiedes, but Belle often called "snowballs," for their soft, snowy-white texture and shape. There was also preserved apple salad, chocolate almond torte, apple cider, niçoise olives, Roquefort-stuffed fennel, and other amazing dishes for that night, with the crowning glory being a roasted pheasant, finishing with a cup of mulled wine for me, and a sauvignon-blanc for her.

Christmas was always the most special time in our family's life. We would always go buy a tree on the first of December, and trim it that very same day. I remember how Belle would always stand on my shoulders, giggling and squealing at the lack of balance as she finished the trimming with either a golden crystalline star, or a delicate porcelain angel, since we rotated the two every year. Every night Lydia would read to her different stories of Christmas, beginning with each telling of the savior's birth in each gospel and moving on to stories she had made up herself, about angels or other people witnessing the birth, and about Christmas stories she had written about characters Belle already knew. And we sang. We sang outside with the carolers while Christmas shopping, and we sang at home. We sang every carol in the book, and with the passing of each Christmas, a new carol found it's way into our home. Those were such joyful times, times I'll never forget….

One particular memory always fills me with such pride and a plentiful helping of Christmas spirit as well. One Christmas Eve started out very normally for us but ended unexpectedly more rich for each member of our family….

It was just like any other Christmas Eve that morning. Lydia had started on some last-minute house-keeping to get the house ready for that night, Belle went out to play with her friends, and I was about to go to the office for a few hours to make sure all inventory was in it's place, the ships were arriving at port on time, and that business in general was running as it should. After seeing that all was in its place, I rushed home to see my wife and daughter. After all it was Christmas Eve!

When I got home however, the atmosphere in the house was uneasy at best. I tried to do what I usually would do and let it run it's course. Very soon though, even I couldn't stand it any longer.

"Darling, is everything alright?"

"Well I suppose so Maurice," Lydia replied. "It's just that Belle has been gone for two hours. She usually remembers to come inside for lunch. Oh well," she laughed. "I supposed she lost track of time, making a snow fort for the girls so they'd have some protection from those boys!"

We both laughed at that, but I knew Lydia was right. Belle had been tardy for a number of things, (the culprit usually being a brand-new book) but coming home to a Christmas brunch after being out in the cold for hours was something she always remembered to do.

"Let's give her some time, Lydia. If she is not back when the clock strikes half-past, we'll start asking people if she went to their houses."

And at half-past, she was not home. We first tried Father's house. But neither he, nor his bachelor friends had seen her. It was more than a disappointing really, because there had been a few Christmas Eves where Belle had spent a few hours keeping the old men company for Christmas Eve. Father at least had us to spend Christmas with, but his friends were usually old widowers whose children lived in other parts of the country. Hence the reason they all came together for Christmas Eve. It was then that we both decided to split up and go individually to each of her friend's houses and see if she was there.

When we got home, we stumbled into the house, numb with fear and worry.

"Oh Maurice, what could have happened to her? Where can she be?" Lydia cried, near hysterical.

"What do you mean Mama? I'm right here," said a little voice.

We both spun toward the voice.

"Belle!" I cried.

"Oh Belle, my little one! Where have you been?" Lydia exclaimed. "Oh my dearest, I'm so glad you're safe." She straightened and gave her a light swat. "Don't ever do such a thing again! Do you realize what happened today? Your papa and I were searching all over town for you. We though something had happened to you!"

I'm sorry Mama. I never meant to cause you worry. It's just that Giselle," here, she gestured towards a smaller girl behind her, "was lost and alone and besides, she doesn't have anybody to share a Christmas dinner with her. I found her a long ways away from home because the boys chased us that far. All the other girls found cabbies home, but Giselle didn't have anyone to go home to. It was awhile before I remembered I had money in my pocket, so that's why it took so long to come back. I'm really sorry Mama, but I couldn't leave her all alone. Please, can she spend Christmas Eve with us? Please?"

The little girl was very small, and looked a little more than malnourished. Thin, patched ragged clothes covered her small body and she wore no shoes. Lydia's mind had been made up before Belle had even asked.

"First of all, I think Giselle needs some proper Christmas Eve clothes to wear for dinner tonight. Would you like that my dear?" she asked gently.

The little girl nodded timidly.

"But before we do that, I think first you need a bath. Oh don't be alarmed," Lydia said quickly, seeing the panic rise quickly on the little face. "This will be a nice bath, warmed just to your liking with bath oils and scenting. And you get to pick just which ones," she smiled.

Little Giselle smiled back and quickly ran ahead, piping in a high voice, "Show me, show me!"

Dinner was lively and fun, especially after Giselle lost her shyness and contributed many things to the dinner conversation. I have no need to tell that she stayed Christmas day too. And after Christmas, Lydia wasted no time finding a place for the little girl to live, a family we knew well that had wanted a little girl very much for a long time. Ahhhh, that was a very good Christmas Eve…

Well, it's very late now. I'd better douse the light before I run out of wax too.

**December 25, 1615**

**Christmas Day,**

The day of comfort and joy.

It is certainly not that for me, and I heartily doubt it is so for Belle. I do not dare think of what her condition might be, for even as it breaks my heart regularly when I allow myself to think about it. I cannot do so on Christmas Day. I just _**can't.**_ To be locked up on Christmas Day must be the worst punishment anyone can receive, when that day is meant to be spent with laughter, smiles, good cheer, and most importantly, with your loved ones. While I have none of these things on Christmas Day, neither does Belle and her condition is….What if she's not even……

No.

NO!

She is. She has to be.

I shall instead, content myself with more happy memories of her mother, her and me.

If Christmas Eve was special, Christmas Day was monumental. Every Christmas morning without fail, Belle would wake up before us, tiptoe into our room and jump upon our beds screaming "Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! It's time to go open presents!" I of course could only groggily lift my head so early in the morning, But Lydia would just smile, amused, step out of bed, and go make the coffee, a special blend of amaretto and mocha. Then she would prepare a special breakfast just for Christmas Day. Then we would sit in front of the tree and open our presents. Belle was always so adorable; her simple joy over everything she got always brought proud smiles to her mothers face and mine. There was one Christmas where she was especially mischievous……

As we sat around the Christmas tree, everyone would take a turn opening their present and open only one at a time. Belle, of course, would always go first, then Lydia would go next, then me. However, when it was my turn, I found that I couldn't find a present. Because as it turned out, they weren't under the tree.

"Now what's going on here?" I asked, feeling rather disgruntled.

Belle clapped her hands to her mouth and tried vainly to muffle the giggles coming from it.

"Have I been tricked?" I asked, casting one amused eye towards my love.

She winked and said, "Shall we tell Papa, Belle?"

"We hid your presents Papa!"

"Did you now? Will you tell Papa where they are?"

"Of course not! You have to use um, um…..what was that word….oh yeah. Clues! They start here," she grinned toothily.

I dutifully followed the clues until I found them in the broom cupboard. After receiving a lovely scarf and a pair of thick leather gloves from Lydia, I have to say that the best gift came from my little girl. Even now the thought of it makes me very weepy.

"I'm sorry that the present isn't very good Papa. I tried to invent something for you but nothing would work. I hope that this is okay. It's for your tools." She said quietly.

I was speechless. Belle had made me a beautiful toolbox decorated with sailing ships, pink and red hearts, and on the cover, a drawing of me, her and her mother.

"Belle.." I choked out. This is by far the _best_ present I have ever gotten in my life."

(parts of the paged have blurred)

I'm alright now. Really.

After presents were taken care of, Lydia would slip into the kitchen to start on another fabulous feast, while Belle and I would go outside to do other things.

We were first to go and buy three Cornish hens, because that was the main dish in our dinner. Then we went to as many parts of Paris as we could, giving out simple gifts to those who needed them. A cluster of candied nuts here, some baguettes from yesterday there. Belle would also hand out some toys she had taken the time to make for the smaller children. Myself, I gave out what little money I had on me. After we finished, we would hurry home and most of the dinner would already be cooked. Father would be there and Lydia would make ready what was already cooked. Then after she had started the roasting of the hens as well as anything else that needed to wait until near the beginning of dinner, we would gather around Lydia's chair where she would lead us into carols and read more stories to us. We also talked about everything we could think of, talking for hours, while the rest of the dinner cooked and what was already cooked was being kept warm on top of some hot bricks. When it finally was time to eat, we would all sit down, say grace, and then dig in. The dishes always varied year by year, but some of the most memorable and repeated ones were: Lydia's Christopsomo, (another family recipe), gingerbread cookies Belle and Lydia had made ahead of time, mushrooms in some kind of herb cream, baked potatoes, steamed persimmon pudding, and the chocolate Yule log for dessert. After stuffing ourselves full, we would retire to the parlor, and just remain there for awhile, talking quietly, but happily, before Father had to go home. And before we knew it, another Christmas had come and gone.

The last few Christmases have been a little bittersweet. The last Christmas we had with Lydia was a sad one, but she did everything to try and make it easier on us. Her sickness and had left her so frail, so weak, she could not do the cooking that Christmas. That didn't stop her though. She instructed Belle from a chair placed in the kitchen that a doctor had recommended for her, and led her through every recipe. Of course Belle had been unsure about taking on such a monumental task, since she herself didn't take as much of an interest in cooking as her mother did, but in the end it turned out to be spectacular, even if it did lack Lydia's special touch. We buried her a few weeks later, but I will always be thankful for that last Christmas. And even with the loss of both her mother and the lifestyle she had before, Belle has always worked hard to make Christmas a special time, even without…her.

How I wish I were with them, both of them! My rations are now gone, and I am still hungry. And I am running dangerously low on ink and wax.

Belle, come back to me, my little girl…..

A\N: Hey everyone! I hope I'm getting better with the updating.

I know it hasn't been that long, but I would like to request that some people review. You never know how that will make someone's day!


	7. Entry Seven

Disclaimer: I do not own Beauty and the Beast. If I did however, I would very much like to find out where the sanctuary of all living Disney creations are, that place of refuge, that was very cleverly called Animasia, by the very phenomenal, very talented Serengeti Dawn, whose writings seem more like a queen's than an ordinary fanfiction writer's.

(btw, this is a joke, albeit a very pathetic and sad one.)

**December 31, 1615**

**Late Evening**

The cold has become so much worse, an inescapable pariah that never ceases its torment, making my illness worse and my body more frozen every day. All my clothes put together and the blanket Belle made the previous Christmas cannot effectively fight against the cold, though I am sure that things would be much worse without them. I hold tightly to them as much for warmth as for a reason to go on. They make me think of the day Belle and I make it safely home, safely out of the clutches of the beast. When I think of Belle, I remember why I am doing this and it is all worth it. Oh dear. I am literally scraping the bottom of the inkwell for ink. I'd better not write again until I find a way to replace it.

**January 11, 1616**

**Early Morning**

What luck! It is so unbelievable that I'm still having trouble believing it.

A few days ago, I felt I might fail my daughter, because it was getting harder and harder to go on. The snow seems deeper, the wind nippier, and my bones heavier. It was especially so before today. I felt I would topple over any minute that the snow would bury me and no one would ever know my daughter's fate. Do not mistake, my determination never wavered, and yet sometimes the body eventually will refuse to obey the will, especially if it is pushed nearly past endurance, which I did. Everything changed when I found the strawberry bush.

To think of it even now makes my mouth water, and me to want to kick myself for not thinking of taking some with me. When I first stumbled upon it, I could hardly believe my eyes. I mean really, how probable was it to find a springtime/summer fruit in the middle of dead winter? There aren't even any signs of wildlife anymore! At least not visible ones. Most of the animals are in hibernation and I rarely see so much as a chipmunk scurrying across the frozen wasteland. It was so unbelievable I doubted my eyes until I was compelled to touch them and find out they were as real and edible as freshly baked bread. I strongly suspected either dark magic or divine intervention. I knew in my head that if something like this happened, it was usually to be regarded with suspicion and especially caution. After all, hadn't I learned anything from my experience in the castle? Don't trust anything you know nothing about. And yet my stomach was battling fiercely with reason, arguing that it needed nourishment, no matter what form and after almost 5 days without food, it won the battle easily. I started picking the berries rapidly, ravenously consuming as many as my mouth could hold, while a new, equally succulent berry immediately grew back for everyone I picked. That confirmed the suspicion that magic was involved and after I'd eaten my fill, dread grew in the pit of my stomach, mixing unpleasantly with the berries I'd just thoughtlessly devoured. I feared the worst, that they were planted here by a demon or evil fey and anything could happen, from me dropping dead with no warning or turning into some unpleasant creature just like the beast! However, many, _many_ moments passed before I realized nothing was going to happen to me except probably a mildly upset stomach. So thanking whatever divine being who had taken pity on a poor inventor, I breathed easier and continued on my way. The strawberry bush might as well have been an unturned acorn however, when I came across the next thing. It was a freshly killed duck….that hadn't been touched. There was no wild beast savagely devouring it, no starving predator eyeing it from a distance, not a soul in sight. I waited a good long while, just to be sure as well. When an estimated 20 minutes had passed, I crept furtively over to it, quickly snatched it and put it in my satchel along with some tightly packed snow (so it wouldn't spoil in case it already hadn't) and continued on my way. About ¾ of a mile later, I found the most unbelievable and also the most miraculous of the phenomenons.

A _house._ Mind you, nothing grand or opulent, but shelter that would protect me better than any other sheltering I could hope to find. This more than anything else should have made me hesitate because again, what did this remind me of? But…it had also been a long time since I had been properly warm and I needed a soft place to sleep and recover my strength. And this time, if I needed to leave in a hurry, I would be ready to do so. The moment I entered, I was on my guard constantly, and I made _sure_ the house was empty, checking each and every nook and cranny before realizing there was nothing to fear. Oh there were a few times when I mistook a shadow for another half-hidden demon. And I'll admit I jumped and cried, startled at the occasional spider or loose forest animal that had somehow found it's way into the house. But as soon as those creatures were seen for what they were and made their way outside, everything was just fine. In fact, I believe I can finally let my guard down for once and focus on healing so that I can get back to the business of rescuing my daughter. Oh my goodness, there are no words that can adequately express my relief and…sense of _safety_ I believe would be the right word. Here I can take the time needed to recover from this persistent little cold and maybe resupply a few food items. I already am almost overstocked with ink as it is! Ah, but I am exhausted. Until next time.

**January 28, 1616**

**Afternoon**

It is a very strange and unsettling situation I've found myself in. When I first found this hospitable little shelter, I had been almost ecstatic to the point of being unable to contain it, not for myself (all right a little for myself-after all, I never enjoyed starving near to death or being exposed to an unforgiving and near-debilitating climate) but for the fact that I could rest a little with the expectation that after a few days I would be renewed and energized, ready to continue onwards towards the castle and it would be a very short time before Belle and I were reunited. That hasn't been the case at all. Instead, I almost feel weaker than before. All I can ever do is eat and sleep and it takes an effort beyond what it should for me to get out of bed to do anything. It's even a chore for me to lift my hand in order to pen down the current events. I hope I'm not sicker than I originally thought. That would be utterly terrifying, because if I cannot even get out of bed for the simplest things, then how can I possibly expect to make the rest of the journey to the castle and live to tell the tale? That's it, stick a fork in me and declare me done. After all, what can a weak old man really do against a ten-foot powerful monstrosity that had no problem doing as he pleased with said old man when the old man was in perfect health? And the truth is, I don't even have a horse. Even if I could find Philippe in time after I somehow freed Belle, how would we be able to outrun the beast? The truth is Philippe would be considered as old as I am, an old draft horse that was never bred for speed, only strength to plow a field. How hopeless it seems.

Wait a minute, how dare I! My daughter is wasting away in a cold dark cell and I suddenly feel like giving up? How is that fair to her? From now on, I will not be so selfish, and I _will_ get better and quickly too! In a few days I will leave and make the few last legs of the journey to the castle and somehow, we will make it home. Now, I must get to bed. Have to build up my strength and replenish my health if I ever dare to have hope against the beast.

**February 4, 1616**

**Evening**

Still no signs of improvement. There are some, but it is happening so slowly I can barely tell if I am getter better or not and have to look for the signs. I have long since given up the search for any herbs or medicines that would speed along any recovery. Still, rest and what little food is left will have to do. The strange thing however is that rest…hardly does any good anyway. I'll fall into a very deep sleep, but when I wake up, I don't feel reenergized or healthier. I always want to go back to sleep. Also, the few times I am awake, there are aches that magnify a hundred times over it seems, making getting up, or even moving seem like an impossibly insurmountable chore. What am I going to do? How will Belle ever have hope, have any rescue to believe in?

How could she in the first place?

I am a weak old man. I realize now, that it might not be entirely possible for Belle and I to make it out of the castle even a few hundred yards before the monster comes roaring, rampaging out of that fortress and stops us dead in our tracks. We might not even make it out of the castle itself. I'm willing to concede that I might not find Belle's cell in time before the Beast finds me and makes quick work of me. If that is the case, I shall leave this account of the entire ordeal right here in this little cottage, so that if any find this journal, they will find the castle. If you who pick up this journal has read it through, seen my anguish and despair and known the love I have for my daughter which is a love that is like none other in this world, then you know what you must do. If there is any chance she is still alive, _any_ at all, you _must_ find that castle! I have made most of the journey; you must do the rest. At most, the castle is probably only a day's journey from here, most likely significantly less. This is only if I have failed.

And now I am so drained my writing has become bizarrely sloppy upon this parchment. I shall sleep one final time before I make the final leg of the journey-into the belly of the beast itself.

**February 22, 1616**

**Morning**

That's it! I am fully sick and tired of lazing about in this half state of reality and dream haze. I don't care if the ground seems to rush up to meet me when I get up, or that all my flesh and bones protest when I move about! I don't care that my vision swims in a plethora of colors if I move too quickly or that my breath still hitches if I have been moving for more than five minutes! I am going to that castle and that is FINAL. I have gathered all the supplies, tidied up this little house as much as I could, picking up the messes I made as best I could and checked and rechecked my supplies. Wouldn't want to run out of something vital when Belle and I are fleeing the monster's lair. I shall miss this little cottage. I will be forever grateful to it and whatever guardian angel that directed me to it. All that is left to do is finish this entry and then leave the journal in a place where it will be seen easily.

And now I go, for my daughter. Farewell, this strange and wondrous place. I hope this is not my last visit.


	8. Entry Eight

**March 10, 1617**

**A Bright, Beautiful New Morning**

Hooray! I have found this cottage and more importantly, this little journal once more. The last time I laid eyes on it, I truly believed I would never see it again, yet now I do indeed lay eyes upon it once more, with joy and unsurpassable happiness. There is absolutely nothing that can stop my happiness. I'd like to see anyone try!

Since of course, you who will read this long after I'm gone have no idea what I am talking about, I shall oblige you and start where it was all left off--the night I left the cottage to finish my journey to the Beast's lair.

I never even made it within sight of the castle before I collapsed, a coughing fit taking over my chest the same way an unforgiving monarch takes over his new country. Eventually it stopped and I realized miserably that I had failed, that even if I wanted to, I could not haul myself up and continue on with hardly any strength left to breathe. So I faded into unconsciousness, waiting for Death to fetch me.

When I woke up, it was not at the pearly gates awaiting judgment, but in my own bed, soft, warm, and the most comfortable thing I had laid in, in a long time. As my eyes opened slowly, I could see nothing but bright blurriness and the vague outline of a figure whom I desperately hoped to be….

"Belle…?"

My vision cleared and my wish came true. It was my daughter, my sweet, wonderful, understanding daughter whom I had desperately looked for, whom in the deepest recesses of my soul I feared I never would get to lay eyes on again. Her sweet smile was a balm to my soul.

"I thought I'd never see you again!" I exclaimed, holding her close, loathe to let go. Never again would we be separated, and I've told her that once she has married, I will be within a couple miles of her new home and visits will be frequent. But more talk of that subject will come much later.

"How did you escape?" I asked her, eager to know how my clever daughter had finally outwitted the Beast.

But she surprised me. "I didn't escape Papa. He…he let me go."

"That horrible Beast?" I said a little too vehemently, disbelieving that a monster as feral and ruthless as that one would _ever_ willingly let a treasure like Belle go home.

"But he's different Papa," Belle argued. "He's changed somehow."

I think she was about to say more. Indeed, I'm sure in the privacy of her mind she was wondering just what I was: how could this monster have had such a huge change of heart? However, before she could utter another word, there was a clatter from her knapsack and out popped none other than the sweet little teacup I had met with the rest of the strangely animated inanimate objects during my first and only stay in that depressing castle.

"Hi!" the little tyke chirped.

"Oh, a stowaway," Belle said, clearly amused.

"Why, hello there little fella," I laughed as he hopped across the bed and into my hand. "Didn't think I'd ever see you again."

He gave me a charming smile before turning to Belle.

"Belle, why'd you go away?" he asked, sounding quite confused and a little hurt. "Don't you like us anymore?"

Now _I _was confused. I was so certain that Belle had immediately taken my place in that cold, damp little cell. Now however…had she been allowed to roam the castle socializing with all who were there? Had she even had a nice room of her own?

Meanwhile, Belle was answering. "Oh Chip, of course I do. It's just that-" She was cut off at a brisk knock at the door.

"I will be right back, you two," she said before going to the front door.

Alone with Chip for a few minutes, I took the opportunity for a few questions.

"Chip my boy, is the B- I mean, your master kind to you?"

"Well he wasn't always very nice. I didn't always get to see him though, it was Cogsworth or Lumiere who had to see him most of the time. But when Belle came, he started to become really nice. And funny," he giggled.

"And Chip-" I began, having many more questions to ask.

"My father's not crazy!" I heard Belle exclaim incredulously. The statement drove a chill through my heart. Who thought I was crazy?

"He was raving like a lunatic! We all heard him didn't we?" a very familiar voice said, scorn dripping with every word. Following that, a _cheer_ erupted. Was the entire town outside?

Wait a minute, LeFou? Gaston's friend? That meek little man was out there inciting the crowd to have me thrown in the asylum?

"No." I heard Belle answer determinedly. "I won't let you." Her tone left no room for argument.

Still…

"Belle?" I asked timidly from behind the door.

"Maurice," Lefou turned to me with mock congeniality. I could hear the oil dripping from his voice and his look was predatory, a strange look for a man that was usually assumed not to be that sort.

"Tell us again old man. Just how big was the Beast?"

Ignoring the warning bells in my head, I plunged right into giving the Beast's description, not caring if people still didn't believe me. After all, if you knew about something terrible that could potentially bring harm to people (particularly a large group of people that made up, say, a village) then wouldn't you feel you had a responsibility to tell them?

"Well he was--I mean he was enormous! I'd say about eight--NO more like ten feet!"

The response to that was instantaneous, and not at all pleasant. As the crowd roared with laughter and jeers, LeFou pressed his advantage.

"Well you don't get much crazier than that!" he scorned.

"But it's true I tell you!" I cried, desperate for someone, anyone besides Belle to believe me.

"Get him out of here," he said dismissively, almost hatefully.

As two brutes from the asylum started to drag me away, I started to fight, kicking and insisting they let go of me.

"No!" Belle cried. "You _can't_ do this." She sounded as outraged as I.

I briefly looked over my shoulder, and saw Gaston approach her. I couldn't help but be curious; what was he up to? He couldn't really expect her to feel very kindly to him as for one he hadn't really cared she'd been locked up and two, she had never liked him much anyway. Straining now, I could see them speaking but couldn't hear a thing due to distance and the fact that Gaston seemed to be keeping the conversation deliberately low. The next thing out of his mouth however, had shocked Belle, making her cringe away. The next thing seemed to make her even angrier than all the rest of what he said.

"Never!" she snapped defiantly.

"Have it your way!" he stomped off

"Belle!" I cried desperately. "Let go of me!" I growled, struggling like never before, the asylum coach looming before me.

"My father's not crazy and I can prove it!" She shouted. "Show me the Beast!"

A flash of strange, magical light lit from the mirror Belle had brought home with her and suddenly staring out of it was, not the reflection of the village opposite, but the Beast in all his monstrous glory, roaring and snarling in rage.

Everyone was terrified and now there was no doubt in anyone's mind that I and now Belle had been telling the truth. Not that there was comfort in that thought.

"Is it dangerous?" a woman from the crowd (I think her name was Cecile, but I can't be sure) asked fearfully.

"Oh no, he'd never hurt anyone!" Belle was quick to say. "Please, I know he looks vicious, but he's really kind and gentle." There was a look of serenity and tenderness on her face as she said this. "He's my friend," she finished, gazing adoringly at the mirror. Was it true? Had the monster changed so much that not only had his demeanor improved considerably, but he had fallen in love with her? Enough to have let her go? And did Belle return the feelings? Did she even realize she had fallen for him?

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you had feelings for this monster," Gaston said, obviously jealous and growing more disgruntled by the minute.

I could tell that this angered Belle a lot and was probably the last straw.

"He's no monster Gaston," she shot back. "YOU ARE!"

Gaston practically snarled, a deep scowl darkening his features.

"She's as crazy as the old man!" he sneered. "The Beast will make off with your children!" He'll come after them in the night!" he cried, ripping the mirror from Belle's grasp, doing all he could to try and discredit me and my daughter.

"No!" Belle cried in alarm.

"We won't be safe until his head is mounted on my wall!" he continued, ignoring Belle and inciting more panic, more fear and anger. "I say we kill the Beast!"

The crowd cheered, ready to go and destroy a creature that had so far done none of those things.

All began to mutter to themselves how none were safe til he was dead, that the children would especially satisfy his appetite and he'd wreak havoc on the village. Gaston masterfully and carefully fed those fears, recruiting more and more men on a "hunting party" to the castle. He painted a dark vivid picture of a slavering, bloodthirsty monster that had razor sharp fangs, massive paws and killer claws. Although, even if his intentions were malicious, it was true. That was the exact image I still had in my head after my first and only encounter with the Beast.

But things were obviously different now! The Beast had met my Belle, and somehow she had miraculously done what I assumed no one else could and changed the Beast into something good, into something kind and gentle, as she had put it. To attack someone or something that had done you no prior harm in the first place was also highly unscrupulous, as Gaston was fast proving himself to be.

"Boys!" I shouted. "You must listen to me and let me go! There is no real reason to go after the Beast. Belle has spent time with him and obviously he hasn't harmed her. Why would he come all this way down to the village? The castle is at least a day away!"

"What's all this nonsense, Maurice? Just a few months ago you told us that he was a horrible monstrous Beast with a long ugly snout and sharp cruel fangs!" sneered Claude.

"Yeah, you said we had to go rescue Belle from him, that there wasn't a minute to lose," agreed François.

"That was before Belle came back," I argued. "That was before she told us that he wasn't a monster. Yes, he was cruel and horrifically frightening, but Belle said that he's changed. I trust my daughter's judgment. Do you?"

I couldn't tell if I had convinced them or not. They had stopped, wavering for about half a minute before a torch lit up an entire haystack (Gaston's handiwork) and not long after Gaston called for all the men to join him saying:

"We not coming home til he's dead! Good and dead! Kill the Beast!"

Belle had had enough.

"No!" she cried, eyes flashing. "I won't let you do this!" She tried to wrench back the mirror, but she was no match for Gaston's brute strength.

"If you're not with us, you're against us!" he spat, easily pulling her away. "Bring the old man!" he called to the men who still had me in their grasp.

"Get your hands off me!" I shouted indignantly as I was thrown into my own cellar. I was quite tired of being manhandled as if what I would have liked didn't matter.

"We can't have them running off to warn the creature," said Gaston as he sent Belle in after me.

"Let us out!" Belle cried.

"We'll rid the village of this Beast!" we heard outside the cellar door. "Who's with me?"

There came a resounding chorus of "I am!"

As they started off, I could somewhat hear bits of the conversation. One caught my ear and shamed me deeply.

"Hey Gaston," said François amiably. "Maurice mentioned that there's a castle we need to get to. It's supposed to be a day away. Do you know anything about it?"

"The castle?" Of course. So that's where the Beast is. Crazy old man! It isn't a day away it's actually close by, on the other side of the forest. He's got as good a grip on direction as he does on his sanity."

It drifted off after that, but I didn't wish to hear anymore anyway.

Almost immediately after we were imprisoned, Belle grabbed whatever was at hand, and threw it at the door, trying her best to force it open, but to no avail. Huffing, she starting picking things up at random and throwing them with increasing speed until I realized that breaking open the door mattered less to her now than taking out her frustration and fury on whatever was in front of her. Quickly I rushed to hold her, knowing that she'd inevitably bring harm to herself since she was thinking less and less clearly about what she was doing.

"Belle, BELLE!" I shouted. "You must stop! This is doing no one any good. I'm sorry, Belle, but hurting yourself won't bring you any closer to the castle's gate. We must think rationally and reasonably about how we are going to escape."

She looked shaken still, but she nodded. "You're right, Papa. I shouldn't focus on the door anyway. I think Gaston put something between the handles." Her eyes lit onto something. "Papa, can you hand me that stick there?"

After she had it in hand, she grit her teeth and set to trying to pry the window open, but sadly, it was stuck fast after a very cold and very icy winter.

"You did your best dear heart," I said unhappily.

"I have to warn the Beast. This is all my fault!" she exclaimed, near tears. "Oh, Papa, what are we going to do?"

"Now, now," I said soothingly. "We'll think of something." But even as I said it, I wasn't sure I believed it. What _could_ we do? The door was firmly locked, with nothing in this room strong enough to break it down. And the window was frozen shut, absolute that no amount of prying would open it.

Although…

"The door to the upstairs!" I cried. Jumping up, I rushed to the stairs and started climbing.

"Papa, wait!" Belle cried.

I did not wait however, until my hand touched the knob and I couldn't turn it.

"I locked up the cellar after you left Papa," she said quietly. "I knew you'd rather have everything the way you left it when you came back from…" but she couldn't finish. I watched as she broke into quiet, choking tears.

Without a word, I went and held her.

"Oh, my sweet girl," I whispered. "I am so sorry things happened this way. But believe me when I say that nothing about this is your fault. You had no control over the situation and there was no way you could have known we would encounter trouble so soon after coming home."

"But Papa," she gasped. "It is my fault. There's so many things that could have gone better. At the very least, before I left the castle, I could have told Beast how I felt about him. And I knew Gaston was a brute, but I never really paid attention to the warning signs. I never even considered how he'd react when I refused to marry him and humiliated him in front of the entire town."

"You did _what_?" I asked, feeling both amused and incredulous.

She turned pink. "I'll explain that later."

"There's so many other ways this could have been handled. Even if I had insisted that both of us had gone to look for you, things couldn't have turned out worse than this."

"Both of you? Belle!" I exclaimed. "Do you remember what happened with our first meeting with the Beast? Before I woke up I was still terrified of him! Do you think that would have changed just because I saw the two of you standing together?" I finished, giving her my sternest look.

"Well…it's possible you would have woken up in one of the castle rooms," she said meekly.

I wasn't sure exactly what to say. Except for this:

"Well," I sighed. "There's really no use dwelling on the what-ifs at this moment…."

What on earth? I started to hear a sound that was very familiar to me, but I couldn't place the reason why. It was coming from outside. Both Belle and I went to the window, curious to what was going on.

What a sight we beheld! My old invention, the wood chopper, had started up by itself and was working up quite a storm. Suddenly the little whistle I'd installed on it gave a shrill cry and the entire contraption started moving.

"What the devil…?" I muttered, astounded at the sight.

Then, upon closer inspection, I realized it was headed right for the cellar door!

"Belle, look out!" I cried grabbing her and moving both of us as far up against the opposite wall as I could.

Closer and closer it came, at an unthinkable speed crashing into the cellar mere within mere seconds. Before anyone could blink, Belle and I were staring down at the ruined mess of what used to be my wood chopper, the invention I had worked on for a solid nine months before readying it for the fair.

Thinking about it now makes me realize just how…_long_ ago all that was.

And who do you think was at the bottom of it? None other than that mischievous little imp, Chip. As we stared down at the wreckage, watching the little teacup dangle from a loose wire, he gave an innocent, yet roguish smile and said in an awestruck voice:

"You guys have _got_ to try this thing."

Belle didn't bat an eye but instead said, "Thank you Chip, I don't know how I'll ever thank you enough after this is over. But for now there's no time to waste! Papa, get my knapsack and our cloaks; I'll go saddle Philippe."

We three were out of the cottage and on the road faster than lightning speed. Belle urged the horse faster and faster, desperate to get to the castle before Gaston did something terrible.

Finally, we reached the castle gates. The bars swung open 50 yards away from us so that Belle did not even have to stop to open them. She galloped right to the edge of the castle and looked up. What she saw made her blanch with fear. Standing beside her and Philippe, I cannot say I didn't feel a semblance of the same thing.

"No!" she cried.

Gaston had beaten the Beast, putting him near the end of the parapet where he could easily fall off and was about to brutally finish him off with some sort of club.

"Gaston, don't!" Belle pleaded desperately. I had never seen her so terrified for anyone, even me. I was more and more certain by the second that not only did the Beast have those timeless, all-encompassing feelings for her, but she unquestionably held those same feelings for him as well.

In a flash however, the Beast sprang up and stopped the blow before it even hardly began.

"Let's go, Philippe." Belle spurned the horse on, riding him right up to the castle doors before taking off inside.

Knowing what I had to do, I took the horse's reins and led him to a nearby stable before following my daughter into the castle. I realized before long that it would take me much longer to reach the battle than it did her. Not only am I not as young as I used to be, but I didn't know the castle as well as she probably did, having spent at least three months inside. So I huffed and puffed up the stairs, following a very indistinct trail of snow and water and eventually reached a seemingly forbidding room. The sight inside was heartbreaking to behold.

There they were on the balcony, Belle and her Beast. From the looks of it, the Beast was terribly, almost fatally wounded. Belle held him, gently set him down. They started to speak but it was too soft, probably because of the Beast's weakness from his wounds. I couldn't make anything out until Belle said:

"Of course I came back. I couldn't let them--" she faltered. "Oh, this is all my fault. If only I'd come sooner."

The Beast murmured something else before Belle shushed him. "Don't talk like that," she gently admonished. "We're together now. Everything's going to be fine, you'll see." She gave him a reassuring smile.

What the Beast said next was clear as a bell and I'll never forget it. For the love encompassed in it was similar to what my own true love said to me before she left this world for the next.

"At least…" he said with effort. "I got to see you…one last time."

They both gazed briefly into each other's eyes, she burrowing her cheek into his palm, before the Beast finally collapsed the rest of the way to the floor.

Stricken, Belle's hands flew to her mouth, her head shaking in automatic denial.

"No, No! Please," she begged weakly. "Please don't leave me."

Weeping softly over his empty body, she said brokenly, lovingly:

"I love you."

Watching from my relatively distant vantage point (behind the bureau next to the table with the dying rose) I could no longer hold it in. Such loss hit so close to home and to see it happen to my daughter, watch her dreams and a future crumble right before her as the one she loved became no more…It was almost more than I could bear as I wept silently with everyone else. Only Belle could openly sob over the body of her lover, but her cries were soft, plaintive, as though it took too much energy to take great, gulping sobs. Perhaps she was still, in some way, hoping he would wake up, come back to her.

Who would have ever thought that he would?

As she wept, flashes of strangely colored light, reminiscent of the mirror streaked around her, but she was completely unaware until the magical force lifted him up and away from her. We all stared in amazement as it began to _change_ him.

It started first with his paws spreading up to his arms. They changed from the paws of a creature to…_hands._ Human hands. And that isn't all. Immediately after, his foot paws became feet, and then his face changed into a man's, very young, with lightly colored auburn hair and seemingly much more vulnerable than the face of the formidable Beast.

The transformation complete, the man floated gently back down to earth, still unconscious from his ordeal with Gaston. Tentatively, Belle moved forward to touch him, but jumped back when he stirred. Slowly he rose to his feet, surprise and amazement crossing his features as he examined his new body before turning to face Belle. A myriad of expressions crossed her face, most of them I didn't recognize.

"Belle, it's me," he said. His voice was milder, gentler than the Beast's had been, as well as cultured with the accent of a noble. There was no question this was the long lost Prince that had disappeared five years ago. Belle seemed unsure though, as if she wasn't quite sure this was the same Beast she had fallen in love with. She curiously studied his features, looking intensely for any sign that this was her lover.

She held his gaze for a full minute, before her eyes lit up.

"It _is_ you!" she cried happily.

And then I realized it too. She had recognized those eyes, the same human eyes that had been frighteningly out of place in a monster's body. It was the only thing about him that testified that he was still the same one that she had given her heart to. His form only had changed, not himself.

Tenderly they kissed, and as their lips met, everything seemed to culminate. Suddenly the sky lit up as though someone had lit a whole box of fireworks at once, and as daylight came to be, it transformed everything it touched, changing the castle from a forbidding monster's lair back into it's original form before, apparently, the spell.

There was a joyful reunion with the prince and all his servants as they changed back to human form as well and before everyone knew it, the Prince had formally gotten down on one knee before Belle and asked if she would be his princess and eventually his queen. (Of course he had taken me aside privately first and asked. He had been extremely nervous, and dare I say it, frightened at the thought of my answer. At first, I thought of teasing him, but then I realized my fun at his expense would probably give him a nervous breakdown and besides I truly wanted Belle's happiness. So it was at a minimum. I sternly questioned him about whether or not he truly loved her, whether or not he would ensure her happiness, and other questions I can't recall at the moment. He resolutely assured me that he would do everything for Belle and more.)

The weeks following have been like something out of a dream. My daughter has never been happier, and there is rarely a time you see her and Prince Vincent apart. They stare at each other with that look in their eyes that every couple who has found love with each other has. The wedding plans have been put into motion and the wedding is scheduled for April of next year. Meanwhile I have moved out of Molyneaux and never looked back. You'll never guess where my new home is. That's right, the cottage! The very same cottage where I found refuge from the bitter, killing cold while I search for Belle. It's just the way I left it, and so far, investigations are turning up the revelation that no one lives in this little place. (Which is quite odd since it was completely furnished and stocked when I first found it. I guess that's a mystery that will never be solved.) Since it is really only half an hour from the castle, Prince Vincent is having a road be paved from the main gates to the front yard of my new home.

And that is the end I suppose. There is so much I have to be grateful for, not in the least my daughter and her joy. Someday soon I will walk her down the isle as she gives herself to Prince Vincent and maybe someday after that, they will have their first child and I shall be a grandfather. That is quite far into the future however, so I will be content with what happens now. May good fortune and many blessings come to you traveler, just as they have to me.


End file.
